All Dogs Go to Heaven
by movieholic
Summary: The idea of nurturing an innocent animal with a wound similar to his own, something he could relate to, sold him on the idea.


**A/N: Out of left field, this thing hit me. Enjoy!**

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He had smelled.

Pure and simple.

Burs stuck into his pink skin, while fur clotted and stuck together by glue-like mud. Various bones stuck out at odd angles, pronouncing the lack of food over the last few days. A thorough washing revealed his black coat to actually be a natural, golden brown. The long hairs were trimmed to a neat and simple style. Overgrown nails, curled under and beginning to dig within the pads of his paws, were trimmed down as well.

His yellow, and brown jagged teeth received a brushing, turning to a glossy white, whereas his purple tongue turned a healthy pink. His black nose, purple on the tip from underlying scabbing, was beginning to fully heal. Sores turned to brown patches, which eventually faded away. Three hefty meals of kibble a day eventually added weight, which was controlled by long jaunts in the early hours of morning and the late of the evening.

Several weeks drifted to several months later, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs found himself raising a sick and neglected puppy into a healthy and happy dog...with a limp. Perhaps that was what sold the once disgusting creature to the former Marine. The idea of nurturing an innocent animal with a wound similar to his own, something he could relate to, convinced him on the idea.

It had been late in the night, on the way home from a long and trying case, when Gibbs found himself nearly mowing down the puppy. He hopped out of the car and looked around, in search of the little child coming to claim the pup as her own. When no such person came out, he shook his head and studied the thing. It was disgusting.

And it _smelled_.

But it was damn small, and whimpering pathetically. Crouching before it, Gibbs had held out his hand and allowed him to sniff it. Eventually something, that looked like it was a tongue after a spin in a meat grinder, darted out and wet his fingers. Blue eyes softening, Gibbs gently touched the puppy, watching as it quickly scurried to his paws and darted off a ways. That was when his limp was noticeable. It was also when Gibbs felt a tug at his heart.

Scooping it up, he carried it to his car and drove home, planning on nursing it back to health and then giving it to the pound. He was Gibbs after all; former Marine, current NCIS Badass Agent, and neither man took in little puppies and cared for them. If his team caught wind of this...

Nearly a year later, the little creature turned into a massive dog. It's breed was indeterminable to Gibbs, though he was sure to refer to him as a mutt regardless. He had started of referring to him as "Pup," whenever he came home. Gibbs couldn't explain the emotions he felt whenever the little pup pounced on his legs, or when he curled up in the crook of Gibbs' arm when resting underneath the boat. Soon after, "Pup," turned into affectionately said "Mutt," and "Dog."

It was this night, where Gibbs was sitting on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, and a hand resting on the heavy weight of the dog's head when he finally decided it deserved a real name. Methodically petting it's now massive frame, Gibbs pondered over several options, attempting to fit one to the dog and to his own lifestyle.

Things like "Fluffy," and "Spike" were immediately struck. Others, such as "Gunny," lingered in the back of his mind as a likeable idea. He seriously considered calling up Abby, and asking for her opinion, but decided that since he had opted to not tell his team about his pet, that she was the last person he would tell first.

He briefly considered naming the dog after one of the three Marine Corps values, Honor or Courage, but found that to be too cheesy for an animal.

Growing frustrated, he took a steadying deep breath and looked down. Large, brown eyes peered up at him from his lap. The dog always sensed when Gibbs was annoyed, or angered. Scratching him behind the ear, Gibbs couldn't help but smile.

"Good boy," he murmured gruffly. Curling his fingers into the fur, he massaged the firm muscle with skilled fingertips, smirking when the dog's tongue lolled out. Suddenly a name came to him. A sad smile formed on Gibbs' face, as an old memory of his family hit him.

Closing his eyes, he took a steadying breath, ignoring the way it wavered. "All Dogs Go to Heaven," he whispered. It was his daughter's favorite movie years ago. The main character was a dog named Charlie B. Barkin, a dog that Gibbs remembered his daughter wishing she could have. A dog he would gladly go through hell and back getting for her now, if it meant she could be there with him today.

Feeling a wetness on his fingers, Gibbs pulled his hand away and opened his eyes. "Hey!" he exclaimed, ignoring the innocent look in the dog's eyes. "Charlie," he sighed.

It fit.

Woofing softly, Charlie tilted his head to the side.

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs gently pushed the dog off of his lap and stood. Walking a few steps, he turned and waved his hand forward. "Well come on, Charlie. Let's go for a walk."

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**End.**

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews so far! I totally appreciate them! :D  
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